


Today I Love You Like Salt

by Iamasortofvillain



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:41:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28657380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamasortofvillain/pseuds/Iamasortofvillain
Summary: Five times Dani learns something about Jamie and five times they heal through touching
Relationships: Dani Clayton & Jamie, Dani Clayton/Jamie
Comments: 20
Kudos: 100





	Today I Love You Like Salt

**Author's Note:**

> “At the end of my rope  
> I testify to silence.  
> Don’t say I’m not grateful.  
> Most will have only one death.  
> I will have two”.  
> ― Margaret Atwood, Morning in the Burned House

**i**

Jamie smells lovely.

It's not unexpected, when you think about it, because you've been close to her so so many times, but it's late at night and she told you her story and she's looking at you small and terrified like she's ready for you to leave, and when you lean forward she smiles.

There is rain in the air and it's cold and the wind catches and blows her hair slightly toward you, pressed against her in the moonflower grove, and you sigh a little because she smells like flowers and soap and fresh grass and it's so soft and so feminine and so much like her.

It's easy to kiss her. Easy and soft and sad and aching, because you know she doesn't expect you to. You kiss her and it's intoxicating just like the first time, only it's slow and without any sort of urgency because you're ready and there is no war and no bodies and no burn. There are no dark figures in the dark. There is no where to rush.

Jamie looks so young up close when she's pressing into you, her eyes searching yours for something, for some sort of permission and some sort of answer and some sort of a thing you're willing to give.

She closes her eyes and kisses you. You kiss her in earnest, licking into her mouth, past her teeth, searching for her tongue. When you brush her lower lip, biting gently, Jamie lets out a quiet moan, her knees bending slightly like she's having trouble keeping upright.

"Keep doing it," she says and there is storm in her eyes. "Getting back to the house will be a bit tricky".

You nod against her mouth and bring your hand to the back of her head and press her tighter to you.

She's the most incredible, tender, intelligent person you've ever met and she's looking at you so scared and so unsure you are almost furious.

The walk to your room is fast and heated and you can't remember much of it beyond Jamie's hand in yours, hot and tugging and urgent.

You don't waste time shrugging off your coat and pulling off her shirt and Jamie is naked, smelling of dried flowers and honey and mint and you're struck by how beautiful and toned she is, wiry muscles and gentle curves and she's a goddess flushed gold.

You take your jumper off and slip out of your pants and Jamie is staring, mouth slightly open, eyes so dark you can no longer see her wintery irises.

Jamie is gripping you tightly, almost frantically, while settling on the bed. You close your eyes. Jamie moves her hand gently down your body, calloused fingers brushing your heated flesh.

"Dani," she only says your name when there is no place for interpretation, serious and grave and so shakily. "Tell me to stop".

"I Don't want you to stop," you say.

A rush of lust wells up in your chest at the look in her eyes and you're lost in her.

Jamie kisses you, tender and kind and rough, a mess of a kiss, the first of a certain kind and you kiss her back.

You want to sing and shout and dance and Jamie is trailing her hand down your body, not quite where you want her yet. You nod and kiss her and nod again.

"Please," you say. "Jamie. _Please_ ".

Jamie laughs softly, a weight has been lifted from her. You brush a strand of hair behind her ear, trace down her jaw. She closes her eyes like it's some kind of holy, a soft smile tugging at her rigid lips. She nods and puts her hand below the waistband of your underwear.

"Yes," you sigh. "God, yes".

Jamie's skin is smooth and soft and she rubs circles into your swollen flesh, fingers trailing down, coming back up, moving through you like you're something sacred.

So much of Jamie's love is unspoken and tender, the quiet gardener peering behind the wild woman's eyes. You touch each other like you have all the time in the world, no rush and no need for a finish.

You trace tiny scars under her ribs, she kisses down your hip. You touch her and she arches into you and you kiss her. She traces her tongue down your body, into your core, and she looks up at you with stars in her eyes.

Afterward, you laugh into her neck and she sucks on your skin and wraps strong arms around you, spelling words against your mouth.

She looks at you with stars in her eyes.

You look at her the same.

**ii**

Jamie is profoundly gentle.

When she kisses you, her lips are soft and she tastes, surprisingly, like mint. She also tastes like cigarette smoke and like wine, and it's less surprising and equally as pleasant.

Jamie kisses you slow and deep and like she's terrified and hesitant and like she doesn't know if you'll kiss her back. Like she's asking permission. Like she's giving you space to say no.

You’re overwhelmed in many ways—you are hurting and you are lonely and she is sad and brave and beautiful, nursing her own demons. She trusts you and you don’t think she trusts anyone else in the whole world, and here she is, kissing you slowly and with care you’ve never felt before.

You feel lucky. She is real.

Jamie's breath is shakey in your mouth and your nose grazing against hers.

It hurts – everything hurts, and you are maybe about to die, the monster is dark and silent and painful inside your chest. But you want to believe that life is more than just surviving and Jamie deserves to be happy, deserves to have more than a painful reminder everything you have, everything you're willing to offer can be snached away at any given moment.

You kiss her back.

You kiss her with desperation and love and lust. You keep kissing her and you want to get lost in it, in her scent and her taste and her hands, running up and down your sides, soft and barely there.

"Kiss me," you tell her as you move away from her mouth. Then with urgency. "Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me".

You are fighting a battle inside of you, but now you're free and you have Jamie pressed close and even though there are still too many uncertainties, too many cracks inside you, even though you don't know if neither one of you could stand to lose something else, you urge her closer.

She tilts her head and you back away, and she looks hurt and scared—like she’s done something wrong like her mouth and hands really are weak. Like you might want to stop.

"No," you say and she doesn't move. "No".

"S'alright, Poppins. Nothing to worry about".

But she misunderstood. You take her face in both your hands and there's a hitch in her breath and you hug her. She's small and young and lovely. She's Jamie, bright and tough and brave, and you hug her tight, kiss her temple, and you can't explain.

"No," you say again. "I mean… I'm – "

"Tell me what to do."

You kiss her instead. It’s a hollow promise, maybe, because she’s Jamie and she deserves more than your hot desire, but she kisses you back with just as much lust, just as much force, just as much hunger.

You choose to believe her kisses.

"Like this?" she asks and kisses you so softly it hurts. You give her a watery smile.

"Like this?"

"I love you," you say as you nod and you've waited a long time to say those words. Jamie doesn't answer. She breathes into your mouth and soaks it up in your still-alive lungs.

It starts slow, and her skin is lovely. You memorise her wrists, the perfume that lingers behind her ears. Her stomach is the kind of soft-hard that makes your mind spin with want. Her breast are bigger than yours. Lovely. She's arching into your mouth as you suck on her skin.

Jamie makes your palms ache, and you think this is the opposite of fear, because you make love on a made-up bed, in what used to be your bedroom, and she kisses you like she understands everything, every single thing about you.

You believe her.

You find the rough-smooth patch of skin on her shoulder and Jamie takes a shakey breath.

"Have many," she whispers into your skin.

"Ripped wings," you breathe into the side of her neck and she makes a whimpery sound.

Jamie is not an angel but this is not any sort of ending. This is a beginning and you're here and Jamie is here, tucked into you, back arching and hands grabbing your hair, slick thighs shaking on either side of your head as you lavish at wet swollen nerves.

Jamie isn't any sort of angel and she's soft, so soft so soft.

She tastes like stars.

**iii**

Jamie has a delightful laugh.

You grin because a lot of horrible things have brought you here, so much loss, but flowers are blooming all around you and there are butterflies and birds chirping and you are struck with the wonder of the world. With the wonder of Jamie.

You feel a strange lightness settle in your stomach at the prospect of seeing her smile, seeing her this happy. It makes you a little sick but Jamie kisses you and whispers, “S'alright. S'alright, I'm here.”

"I never thought I'd meet someone like you," you tell her

She turns to you with a bright smile and she’s so beautiful it takes your breath away.

“I never imagined you.”

She bites her lip and then leans forward to kiss you, and you shut your eyes tight and try to remember this moment.

"You're nothing I could ever even dream about, Poppins".

Eventually, you both have to breathe, and Jamie rests her forehead against yours. She squints a little and then makes a little face, and you bend down and blow a raspberry on her neck, and the prettiest laugh comes out of her mouth.

It makes you want to cry, almost, because you have given her so much grief, so many tough nights and difficult hours, this is all you ever wanted. Hearing her laugh. Having her breath heavy against you, happy and content and light.

Her laugh is music to your ear, a little breathless thing, raspy and booming. You want to hear it again, so you blow another raspberry, bigger and more dramatic this time, and she tickles your armpit, and you laugh into each other’s mouths.

She laughs for stretches of minutes with you at nothing in particular—but maybe it’s at being alive and together and here and _Real_.

The way she laughs is young and full of softness like nothing ever happened to bring you so close together and you don't want to remember anything about survival and nothing about big haunted houses, just Jamie and how she knelt before you in reverence.

"Let's grow old together." You say and Jamie kisses you deeply. When it grows heavy you tickle her side and she laughs with a yelp into your mouth, kisses you softly afterward.

"One day at a time is fine by me, Poppins. S'all the promises I need".

"I don't plan on anything else," you answer, a little drunk on her laugh and her touch and her scent.

Your stomach aches, all the way to your chest, and there are two colours in your eyes.

"Don't care, Poppins," Jamie mumbles into your mouth, tugging at your hand. You laugh and she laughs with you, the motion bringing you closer together. Suddenly there is no more laughter left in neither of you and Jamie's eyes dart to your lips.

You feel a weird combination of calm and jittery at the same time and Jamie takes your hand in hers and links your fingers.

"You're so beautiful." You say.

She takes a deep breath and your heart is pounding and Jamie is so close she looks down at your mouth and swallows and meets you in a soft kiss.

It's the easiest thing in the world, kissing her. it's powerful and you tangle your fingers in her hair and close your eyes and let yourself lose balance. Jamie's fingers are lovely and her palms are calloused and rough but her touches are soft and you're shaking under her respectful and tender touches.

Jamie yanks at everything you've ever tucked into your hollows.

She says your name over and over and over, like a prayer.

She laughs.

You lie on your bed together and strip each other down—of clothes and pretense and fear.

Jamie is strikingly gentle, careful, asking you again and again if you’re sure. You think part of this is because she doesn’t want to hurt herself, not again. A bigger part is because she doesn't want to hurt you and it's sweet and scary and everything lovely.

But you want her for reasons that aren’t driven by loss and grief and death, aren't mixed with dark scary figures peering at your from the dark. 

So you tell her.

She’s beautiful when she comes beneath you, quiet and trembling and clutching at your back and kissing you hard.

When you come after her, her mouth and her fingers touching you with the elegant purpose she does everything with, you forget, for a brief, glorious, unbearable moment, about ghosts and about endings and about forever.

You only have Jamie.

You sob when you come, hot and wet and fast on her palm.

**iv**

Jamie has nightmares.

You come back late from the shop. It was a long day and Jamie looked a little ashen so you insisted on closing alone, sending her home to rest. It takes longer than usual to close because an elderly lady comes just as you lock the doors, and she's sweet enough and eager enough to keep you buzzing around, making bouquets and chatting and ending up missing the bus.

As you enter the apartment, you notice Jamie didn't bother turning on the lights and she's sprawled on the sofa, hands thrown up, legs slightly spread. You can tell she isn't sleeping very well, tossing and turning. She rolls onto her arm, then rolls back, grumbling and gasping and shifting again.

You don't wonder what she's haunted by. You've seen her eyes. You've heard her stories. You've looked at her as she offered her pinky, as she searched for a hint of hesitation on your face, as she shyly asked if you'd like to get an apartment together, as she kissed down your stomach, beggin, willing to stop.

Jamie has seen people die. More than she should have. And she's beautiful, so beautiful you can't help but want her, a hungry and primal and wild want, soft in all the right places. There is something beyond your matching pain, the mirror of blood and horror on your hands, the sound of your nightmares, that makes you ache to touch her. It's been there a year ago, as you kissed her in the dark, a year ago when you put your palm on her shoulder, a year ago when you saw her swagger into the kitchen, dirty boots and dark overalls and a smudge of mud on her forehead.

You want to wake her and kiss her and you wonder if this sort of want is the same as grief – if your profound desire is the same as sadness.

Jamie mumbles something, breathy and hollow and if you could take the sound away, you would. You'd take it to the same place you pushed your beast in the jungle, tucked far away in a darkness you don't touch.

Jamie mumbles and you wonder if you could swallow it down your throat if she could bite away the dark presence inside you if you could bite away her brother's name from her lips.

You kneel beside the sofa and watch her face, tortured and painful and broken, all wrong. You watch her and wonder what healing is, because broken bones can be healed and so are burns and wounds and you know the physical aspects of pain but also the ones you can't see, you know them far too well and Jamie is too gentle and too precious and too brilliant to suffer.

You want her to live without pain and without terror and without torture and the horrors of loving you saddens her and there is power in her silent smiles and loving hands and she never asked for it but she offered it to you anyway.

You watch her struggle through a land you cannot follow into, and you understand the riddle in this pain. Jamie – Young and painful and loving with her trade-mark troublemaker's smile and gleaming eyes and insistent way of say _'one day at a time'_ , is turning and you put a gentle hand on her shoulder and whisper her name.

She wakes up with a slight steer, her eyes wide and confused as she's staring at you. The shreds of her nightmare are still swirling in her greenish-gray eyes and she's Jamie, fully present and ready to assist.

"Poppins," she says, very quietly. Her eyes are burning from a lot of things. "What's going on?"

"I'm here." You tell her and you mean more than that.

She nods. You smooth your hand over her forehead, pushing her messy curls away from her eyes.

"You okay?" You ask in a whisper and a small smile spreads on her lips.

"You're here." She says and it makes you smile.

Jamie's eyes get darker when the last shred of sleep is gone and she kisses you. You wrap your hands around her neck and she lay you down on the sofa and tangles her hands in your hair. You sigh and she slips a thigh between your legs.

"You had a nightmare." You say.

"Yeah." You can tell she's distracted because she pushes her own leg up and you let out a whimper you didn't intend on making. She sinks down on your leg, hot and persistent.

Then you're not talking anymore. You palm her breasts and she bites your lip _hard_ and scraps her nails down your back under your shirt. She pushes you back a little bit after you slip your hand down her stomach and you're exhausted and heady and a little dazed. Jamie's lips are swollen and red.

You're facing each other on your sides, tangled legs, and laced fingers and she leans forward and kisses your cheek.

"Thank you".

There are tears brimming in her wonderful stormy eyes and you are far too tired to begin to know what this means, what she tries to shield away from you, so you scoot forward and kiss her very very softly.

"Don't say that," you whisper in a breathless horror. "Come to bed".

After a while you tug her up and walk her to your bedroom and you lay down and Jamie puts her head on your chest. You run your hand through her hair lazily, working through tangles, and you're fighting to stay awake because you want to know she's safe before you do.

"This alright?" Jamie mumbles into your skin and she takes your clothes off and kisses you so gently you ache.

"Always. Always," you say and you can't explain.

She hovers above you and you say, "Jamie. Let me help." And she smiles and parrots your answer back to you, a whispered revelation into your skin.

' _Always. Always'._

After, Jamie doesn't sleep. Her eyes stay stubbornly open. Her breath a shallow whimper against your skin.

"Jamie," you whisper, broken and sad and young. "Jamie. Jamie. _Jamie_ ," her name's the most precious thing in your mouth. Her pain a hot spike against your bleeding heart.

"You can sleep now," you tell her. "I'm right here. I'm right here".

Jamie nods and closes her eyes. You kiss the top of her head. Her heartbeat is mixing with yours, a perfect sensation of someone alive and she's hot against you, skin damp and sweaty, slick where her center connects with your leg.

Jamie says something, already half-asleep and very very still against your body, and having her in your arms never felt more of a benediction.

**v**

Jamie is beautiful.

You look at her and your heart's pounding, adrenaline starting to surge through your body. It’s young—the youngest thing you’ve thought in what feels like a very, very long time and -

Jamie is beautiful.

You’d known it since the minute you saw her walking into the kitchen at the big old house, but not like this, not with you guiding her fingers down your body and not with all of her skin barred and not with her heady breath on your neck. And it's nothing new and everything exciting and you wonder if it will ever stop, the feeling of her touching you like it's your first time.

Like it's your hundredth.

She is beautiful, and she kisses your pulse point and then your lips, then looks at your eyes.

“Dani,” she says and it comes out rough and laden with unshed tears and bottled desire. “Is this okay?”

You smile a little and say, “Yes,” and she kisses you hard and gentle and her fingers slip inside of you.

She mumbles out a _yes_ as she leans forward. Her lips are soft and she tastes like wine and peaches and mint and she smells like coconut sunscreen and she is entirely intoxicating, and your heart speeds up but then slows and when she weaves her hands in your hair and it is the most peaceful you’ve felt in a long, long time.

You’ll never get tired of the way she kisses, you don’t think, like her body is wild, like she’d be willing to gnaw off her own foot if she was caught in a trap but like you’re the most special, spectacular thing she’s ever touched.

It feels soft and new and _good_ , because she is good—she is better than you had first known. You’ve never had sex with a girl before Jamie, and she’s lovelier than you’d been able to imagine, so vastly different from Eddie's harsh, desperate pounding. You and Jamie are building a future together, you and Jamie are fighting through a present, and so: Jamie is gentle, even as she curls her fingers and presses her thumb against your clit. All of her is soft, even her scars and battle-ready muscles, the little notches in her bones from where they’d broken and healed over the years. Her torso is covered in small silver scars that wind around, and there are thirty-seven moles across her body, one at the back of her palm.

In time, you learn to kiss them all; you kiss all of her. In time you learn that she arches into you when you bite gently into the space of strong muscle between her neck and shoulder, that her favourite thing is when you suck on her clit slowly and trace over her ribs with your nails.

When you do she says your name.

 _Dani. Dani. Dani_ , fast and desperate and familiar.

In time—years later, when you have grown to build something great in a small cold town in Vermont, when you are older and you have a shop and an apartment and your beast is a quiet dark memory at the back of your head —you will have memorized every scar and dip and precious curve of her body, you will learn how the golden ring presses into you when you kiss her just right.

But for now, Jamie kisses you and says, very quietly and very deliberately, “Come for me,” and it’s a promise, and you do.

Jamie's lips are full and her hands are delicate, and you unbutton her pants and slip your fingers inside. You don’t know how to touch so little and so much of her at the same time, because there are stones skittering around you and the mattress is too soft against your back, and her head is tipped back and her pulse point smells like some kind of flower. Jamie moves above you, frantic and needy, and neither of you say anything, and you’re pretty sure she’s silent the entire time — which is unsurprising, really — and it’s cold and she comes, wet and hot, around your hand, untethered and beautiful.

This is love and this is weakness and this is everything you've ever wanted, Jamie by your side, in you, smeared all over your skin, her thumb grazing at you, your fingers hooked into her hair.

"I love you," you say. You mean it as a promise.

Jamie is nodding and she takes it as one. "I love you, too".

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> English is not my first language, and also I'm rocking ADHD like a MF so please excuse any and every misspellings, mistakes, and other Grammarly atrocities.  
> Also,  
> Come chat with me @ love-jesus-but-i-drink-a-little.tumblr.com


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